


If Only

by fab_fan



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Random & Short, Short, Short One Shot, the lightest of angst I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26373571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_fan/pseuds/fab_fan
Summary: Hearing the distant chime of midnight, Raelle pressed her lips to Scylla’s forehead, closing her eyes and letting the feel of her girl linger in her memory.She wanted to stay there.Forget about responsibilities and oaths and deals and pain so intense it morphed into an anger that roared like a wildfire, fierce and barely tame-able, always there, always lurking.When she was with Scylla, like this, just the two of them, she was happy.She was happy.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 17
Kudos: 141





	If Only

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the beginning of season 1.

Goddess, she was beautiful.

Raelle swallowed thickly, doing her best to remain quiet, not to wake the mesmerizing girl curled up against her, head tucked under her chin and softly sleeping to the ticking of a far away clock. Puffs of air tickled the hollow of Raelle’s throat like gentle gasps of springtime breezes that ruffled the wildflowers that bloomed along the Cession plains when the sun rose high in the sky and night time loomed far off in the distance. Raelle tenderly ran her hand along tousled dark brown hair, fingertips smoothing wavy silky strands back and behind a cute ear to reveal a relaxed almost tranquil face lost in peaceful dreams. Brilliant blue eyes that were the color of the ocean Raelle had only seen in pictures, and just as deep, endless currents that pulled her in and never let her go, were covered by elegant lashes. Raelle couldn’t help but stare, the urge to kiss her so overwhelming she had to bite her lip to keep from ducking down and breathing in the sweet scent that always seemed to cling to her lover’s skin. Something so alluring Raelle found herself searching for it whenever she was alone. Thinking of playful arms and a teasing smirk. Hungry fingers and a demanding tongue. A voice that could make her shiver with one throaty whisper or blushingly smile like a fool as Raelle stumbled after her, wanting more, needing more.

Wanting everything.

Scylla was confusing and intriguing and made Raelle feel things she never dreamed of feeling. Not in this life. Not in a world where love was meant for civilian fairytales and happily ever afters never happened to a Collar. Where her heart had been broken so many times it was a wonder there were even enough pieces left to be glued back together in some weird mess that now yearned to stay forever in this little bed, with Scylla resting on her chest and where it felt as if nothing bad could ever happen. Nothing bad could touch them.

With one look, one subtle glance, Raelle would follow her like a lost puppy. She would move mountains to be able to touch her. Hold her.

To fall asleep with her.

It didn’t matter that Abigail glared at her every time Raelle was seconds away from being late for training. It didn’t matter that Anacostia was always there, waiting to hand out another demerit with a disappointed scowl. 

It didn’t matter that Scylla refused to talk about herself. Shied away whenever Raelle tried to talk about her past, tried to get to know her beyond the superficial. 

None of it mattered because of this exact moment. 

Because Raelle got to see her girlfriend like this.

Got to nestle in close and trace the curve of her shoulder, the dip of her spine, as Scylla trusted her enough to let her guard down and be with her. 

No matter what rumors or whispers echoed in the hallways, Raelle knew who Scylla was.

She was the girl that made Raelle smile.

Who made her heart skip a beat.

Who made her lose her footing because she was so beautiful and challenged her to be more than a Cession nobody that every High Atlantic in her cadet class looked down upon.

She was the girl who sat at her desk studying her notes while Raelle lounged on her bed, exhausted after another grueling training session. 

The woman who arched beneath her as hips rolled and heated stuttered breaths mingled.

The witch who encouraged her to believe in herself, because she was powerful. Strong. Capable of more than anyone ever thought she could be.

The only one who saw more in Raelle than a waste of space who would end up dead on the front lines before her twentieth birthday.

Hearing the distant chime of midnight, Raelle pressed her lips to Scylla’s forehead, closing her eyes and letting the feel of her girl linger in her memory. 

She wanted to stay there.

Forget about responsibilities and oaths and deals and pain so intense it morphed into an anger that roared like a wildfire, fierce and barely tame-able, always there, always lurking.

When she was with Scylla, like this, just the two of them, she was happy.

She was happy.

The clock struck again.

But, her happiness didn’t matter.

It never had.

Sighing, she carefully opened her eyes and leaned back, taking one last look.

It amazed her how someone so guarded, with so much hidden behind smirks and flinty seductive teases, could look so content.

That she allowed Raelle to see her like that.

Trusted her, without saying the words.

The corner of her mouth flickered.

If only things were different.

If only she were different.

If only.

Wetting her lips, Raelle slowly eased out from under the slumbering woman, holding her breath and locking her jaw as she replaced her chest with the thin pillow. 

The arm thrown across her waist tightened, “Raelle?” 

Raelle touched the back of her hand, ignoring how the raspy dream-filled mumble struck her heart like a knife, “I have to go.”

“No,” Scylla tugged at her hips, “Stay.”

“I can’t.” Raelle rolled over. She brushed a tiny kiss to her temple, as delicate as a flower petal floating on the wind, “Abigail will kill me if I don’t spend at least one night in our room.”

“Sleeping with other girls?” Scylla grumbled.

Raelle kissed her cheek, “Can’t even handle you, Scyl, don’t think I’d even try with anyone else.” She slipped out of the sleepy hold and to her feet. With a quick glance around, she spotted her trousers and quickly pulled them on, snagging her socks and boots as she heard another chime.

She was going to be late.

Scylla rubbed at her face, pushing her hair back and peering up at the blonde, “Will I see you tonight?”

“Could see me for dinner.” Raelle stepped into her shoes, “If you want.”

Scylla smiled softly, eyebrow raising in a way that was both affectionate and amused, something close to charmed adoration dancing around the edges of her mouth, “Dinner?”

“Yeah, dinner.” Raelle crouched down and tied the laces of her boot, one shoulder lifting in a tiny shrug. “It’s a meal. Fairly popular.”

“Trying to ask me on a date, Collar?” she leaned back on her elbows, eyes saying more than her words could ever convey, drinking in the way lean muscles flexed along exposed arms and the way her jaw tilted with each word.

“Ask my girlfriend on a date? I would never.” Raelle quickly tied her other boot and stood up, snapping up her jacket and swinging it on. She ambled over to the bed, leaning over, hands resting on either side of the brunette, “I hear they’ll have meatloaf.”

“Hmmm, what every girl wants to hear.” Scylla tangled her fingers in the front of Raelle’s black shirt, guiding her down into a kiss.

“I’ll drop by after training. We can walk together?” She nudged the tip of her nose along the curve of her cheek. “I’ll even steal two jello cups for you for dessert.”

“How could I say no to jello cups?” She dipped her chin, catching her lips in another sweet kiss, “Stay a little longer.”

The bell chimed.

“I need to go.” Raelle muttered, pressing in closer, nipping at a tender bottom lip.

“Few minutes.” Scylla reached out and ran the tip of her finger along her jaw, tracing a path to curl around the side of her neck. 

The next kiss didn’t stop.

* * *

Raelle sprinted through the dark, dodging past cadets patrolling the grounds on guard duty and weaving along the paved paths slick with early morning dew. Her clothes were rumpled and there was no way she could possibly pass inspection later.

She didn’t care.

She was already so late.

Jumping up the stairs, she all but burst through the door, knowing she needed to be quiet but also knowing she would more than likely get her ass handed to her.

Not that she cared.

It was worth it.

She bit her tongue as she raced down the hallway.

Was all of this worth it?

Stumbling to a stop in front of a closed door, the polished wood gleaming no matter the day or time, she sucked in a lungful of air and raised her fist, tapping a firm succinct knock.

“Enter.” called through the barrier.

Inhaling deeply, Raelle cautiously opened the door, sliding inside and silently shutting it behind her.

“You’re late.” 

Raelle turned around, “You say that like it’s something new.”

Petra Bellweather shot her a withered glare, “Have a seat. We don’t have much time before you’ll need to return to your barracks.”

Forcing herself to remember why she was there, who she was meant to be, what she had become, Raelle made her way to the chair situated in front of the desk and lowered herself into the uncomfortable wooden seat.

“What do you have to report, Pvt. Collar?”

Throat suddenly dry, she swallowed roughly.

She schooled her features into a shady mask of indifference, pushing back everything inside of her screaming to leave, to go back to the warm bed and welcoming embrace she left behind.

And hated herself.

“Mirrors.” She finally spoke up, “I believe they talk through mirrors.”

Petra folded her hands on top of her desk.

“I haven’t seen it, but I’ve heard Scylla talking sometimes. The way she looks at the mirror…”

Like there was someone on the other side.

Petra nodded, “And your mother?”

Raelle’s fists clenched at her sides.

_The general looked out of place in the shabby run down kitchen. Raelle would bet the High Atlantic had never set foot in the Cession let alone some poverty stricken combat medic’s ramshackle home._

_Raelle refused to sit down, body tense, a wire pulled tight ready to snap._

_Her mama was dead._

_They’d delivered the news last week._

_Cold and impersonal. Nothing more than a mere courtesy to let the family know their mother, their wife, was never coming home. Was gone. Nothing more than shards chipped out of glass._

_Nothing but a medal and leftover letters._

_And Gen. Petra Bellweather had been the one to give the orders._

_The one who led her mama to her death._

_Raelle had read the letter._

_She knew who this woman was._

_“Raelle Collar,” the older witch eyed her, “you’ll be taking the oath soon.”_

_Raelle didn’t respond._

_“Your mother was a good soldier. A good medic.”_

_“Don’t talk about her.” Raelle bit out._

_She was angry._

_So damn angry._

_Petra gave the tiniest of smirks, “We need to.”_

_“Why? Are you going to tell me how you killed her?”_

_Petra almost gave a sigh, a flicker of kindness, of remorse flashing in her dark eyes, “Your mother isn’t dead, Raelle.”_

_Raelle blinked, “What?”_

_“Your mother wasn’t killed.” Petra tilted her head, “She deserted.”_

_“I don’t...I don’t understand.” her mind raced._

_This didn’t make any sense._

_Her legs wobbled a bit._

_“Willa Collar deserted her unit, her fellow soldiers, her fellow witches, and joined the Spree.” Petra watched her._

_Raelle swayed._

_The Spree? Deserted? But…_

_“What?”_

_Petra remained silent._

_“No, she...she wouldn’t...mama wouldn’t…” her hand shot out, gripping the back of the chair in front of her, her entire body suddenly weak, “the Spree kill people.”_

_They killed civilians._

_Like her dad._

_Petra gracefully stood up, her elegant catlike movements out of place amongst the tattered furniture and broken appliances. She placed a light hand on the teenager’s shoulder, “I am sorry, Raelle.”_

_Raelle wanted to shrug her off, but couldn’t._

_She couldn’t think._

_Couldn’t breathe._

_And, that hand, the gentle hand, somehow made her feel like she wasn’t plummeting into the ground, tossing and tumbling in a never-ending tunnel of darkness._

_Petra’s voice echoed in her tumultuous mind, “We need your help.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because, Raelle,” Petra patted her shoulder, “Your mother abandoned her duties. Abandoned those she was supposed to be loyal to. Abandoned you.”_

_Raelle’s chest burned._

_“You’re not your mother, Raelle.” Petra spoke firmly but quietly. “You can help save people. Save civilians. Like your father.”_

_“How?”_

_“Intelligence.”_

“Nothing, yet.” Raelle’s eyes hardened.

Petra nodded, “See that you keep an eye out. She may attempt something soon. Certainly before graduation.”

Raelle gave a quick nod, “Yes, ma’am.” She stood up, and turned to leave.

“Raelle?”

She paused.

“The girl?”

Raelle’s mouth twitched and she blinked slowly before facing Petra, “She’s not a danger.”

Petra stared at her.

Waiting.

“Scylla Ramshorn is,” good, thoughtful, funny, sexy, brilliant, “nobody.”

“And your relationship?”

Raelle scoffed, “She’s using me...and I’m using her.”

Petra didn’t blink, “Are you?” She picked up a few papers from her desk and shuffled them, “Don’t get caught up in something that isn’t real, Raelle.”

It was real.

All of it.

At least on her end.

And, sometimes, when Scylla looked at her, when she kissed Raelle as the blonde left her that morning, Raelle believed it was real for her, too.

“Yes, ma’am.”


End file.
